


We are buried in broken dreams (we are knee deep without a plea)

by Small_bump



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, In-depth character study, Just trying to make sense out of this storyline frankly, M/M, Paranoia, Paranoia personality disorder, Robert centric, Therapy, reference to Aaron's self harm, the boys need a hug, third person unreliable narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_bump/pseuds/Small_bump
Summary: He copes; it’s just what he does. He shoulders on, marching through the chaos, that is his own mind and just copes.Until he can’t, and well, it all goes to hell from there.(Or the one where Robert has a mental break and is forced to confront his demons.)





	We are buried in broken dreams (we are knee deep without a plea)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Ruelle's _The Other Side_
> 
> This is just a concept, that I've been playing with for a while. I apologise in advance, if you're looking for a story that ties things up, in a neat bow, but frankly that isn't the reality of mental health & I wanted to remain as realistic as possible. 
> 
> I tried as much as possible, to work with the present storyline's, but of course (i have no clue what's coming up in this July SL so I tried to get around it as much as possible. 
> 
> Enjoy! (feel free to let me know if ya liked it _if ya want!_ )

 

 

 

> _“People with personality disorders, in general, do not often seek out treatment until the disorder starts to significantly interfere or otherwise impact a person’s life. This most often happens when a person’s coping resources are stretched too thin to deal with stress or other life events.”_

Robert knows something’s wrong, of course, he does. He’s known for a long time now. There’s this itch, it’s unidentifiable, and it won’t go away. It's there, Robert can  _feel_  it,tries not to—shoves and push’s at his subconscious, tries to bend it to his will. But his minds, never been cooperative, the itch remains. Most days, Robert can ignore it, ignores the nagging feeling that someone’s lurking in the shadows  _just behind him_. Deliberately walks passed the windows a little too quickly at night, afraid if he looks out he’ll see a figure staring at him from behind the bushes. 

 _He copes;_ it’s just what he does. He shoulders on, marching through the chaos, that is his own mind and just  _copes._  

Until, he can’t, and well, it all goes to hell from there.

 

 

 

 

It's like the fighting won’t end. They’re argumentative by nature, of course, they are,  _him and Aaron._ But it’s never been this bad, it’s a constant. As soon as Robert thinks they’re on the brink of reconciliation, something else will rear its head and shatter the fragile progress they’ve made. It’s Robert’s fault he  _knows_ it is. When will he learn to just shut his mouth? He always manages to make the situation worse, his cruel. He doesn’t mean it, never means it when it comes to Aaron, but he can’t  _help_ it. It’s him—its what he does, he’s snide and snappy, it’s just how he copes. Not with Aaron though, he never wants to be this way with him.

But he is, he  _hurts._ Because that’s just what he does. It enough though, just to accept it, accept that this is the way he is, and move on. At least usually it is, but this is Aaron, and what they have has always been  _more._ It means more, more then  _Katie_ even and once a upon time, Robert didn’t think that was possible, he didn’t think he could love another person the way he did her. It had felt all-compassing and everlasting. But it wasn’t, it wilted and died, long before the floorboards had collapsed beneath her feet. Dead the second that she'd chosen Andy, the second that love quickly twisted into hate.  _Aaron_ though, Aaron was better, loving him felt free, almost like Robert could fly. Soar with the wings Aaron’s love had built for him, it felt like an impossible high.

But there’s always a come-down isn’t there? That’s what this is, an incredibly low come down, from an impossibly euphoric high. He doesn’t feel like he can fly when they’re fighting, feels like his feet are cemented to the ground.

The fights seem to make the itch  _worse._ He can’t push it away, tries, tries to cope. Does, all the things he usually does, when he feels it start to take over. But nothing works, it just won’t budge—he knows why. Aaron’s pulling away, and as he does so the stare's get just that little bit more potent. Aaron’s pulling away and Robert can’t  _take it._ Losing Aaron, well it’s losing everything. Unhealthy as it may be, that’s what it is.

And he can feel it, feel the eyes of everyone in the village starting at him— _they’re not. They’re not starting—_ but they are. Burning holes in the back of his head, never mind that when he turns around, it’s not the case.  _He knows they are._ He knows.

He can’t cope; it’s no longer his subconscious whispering that. It’s at the forefront, it’s screaming into his ear.  _He can’t cope._

 

 

 

 

 

It’s another fight—of course, it  _fucking is._ The result; of too much drink and not enough sleep. It, not even a big deal, it  _isn’t._ It’s Liv’s stupid school trip, the one she’d been begging them to pay for, and Robert almost there, about to give. It’s harmless, and sure it’ll cost a bomb, but it’s not a big  _deal._ It definitely doesn’t warrant a screaming match, only it does because they do scream. They scream the house down, over a bloody school trip, just another one for the books.

Only it isn’t, it isn’t because something snaps, and Robert can’t take it. Feels too hot, under Aaron’s angry gaze. Feels, self-conscious, wants to hurt, hurt Aaron—but he doesn’t, not really. Feel’s his hands begin to shake, can hear a tiny voice whisper, that  _Aaron isn’t to be trusted—_ of course, he is—only he isn’t.  _He isn’t._

It’s never Aaron. This  _itch_ , it’s never felt like it was coming for their relationship before. Like it was twisting it, turning into something Robert couldn’t trust and—he doesn’t want  _this_. So he runs.

He makes a beeline for the door, scoops his keys from the table as he walks past and  _runs._  

 

 

 

 

 

_You could have killed me._

_Mate, you’re one who hit the breaks in the middle of the road._

It’s Ross, of _fucking_ course it is—who else would he be? Robert’s out of his car, in an instant, fists clenched, shaking with anger. Of all the people to rear-end him, it had to be _Ross._ He's done this on purpose, _he knows_ he has.

Hasn’t he taken enough? He’s taken everything, left nothing in his wake for Robert to hold onto. Stolen the very thing that had taken so long to admit he wanted, stolen what he’d forced himself to burry—for 6 whole months, he’d forced himself not to want. He hadn’t wanted this—but perhaps a part of him did. The part, that whispered, and turned, and borrowed a hole inside his mind, and refused to disappear, a _want,_ that with each passing day had burned, and burned, until all he saw was red.

Until he couldn’t take it, he needed to do something. And just like that it was gone, _ripped from_ him _,_ like everything else in life. Aaron had tried to hold on, dug his fingers into Roberts skin, and held on for dear life, but it was too late. Robert could feel himself slipping away; that had been the _beginning._

And now here Ross stood, with the car seat Robert had bought no doubt in the back of his car. _He’d done this on purpose._

_No, I didn’t. **Liar.**_

_Seriously mate someone needs to check your head. Nut case or what?_

It’s Ross’s snort, that’s the final straw, sends Robert into a rampage. He can’t control it. He’s standing there like nothing's wrong, calling him _names._ His grabs Ross by the jacket, shoves him into the door of the taxi, his breath coming out laboured. He wants to shove, again, and again and _again._ Wants to shove his head into the door of that taxi until that smug smile is wiped off his face.

_Robert!_

 

 

 

 

When the haze finally clears, and he's able to string a coherent sentence together; he’s back at The Mill. He’s hands have stopped shaking, and things feel calm-well calmer, for now anyway. Robert can’t for the life of him, remember how he got there, but his sitting on their coach, Victoria beside him. She’s silent, sitting a little too close for Robert’s liking, but she’s rubbing her hand up and down his thigh, its warm underneath his trousers, _comforting._ So he doesn’t try to pull away or retreat back into his mind. The only thing he can hear is the sound of her palm against the fabric, and his harsh breath.

“Get this down you” _Aaron,_ Robert can see him walk out of the kitchen, glass in hand from his periphery vision. For a second he thought it had just been the two of them, but of course, Aaron was here, _it’s his home too—_ more Aaron’s home then Roberts, why wouldn’t he be here.

Aaron places the glass on the coffee table, and Robert starts at it for a second before reaching for it and downing it in one sitting. Once he’d started drinking, he’d realised he was parched, _dying_ of thirst.

“Thanks” he mutters, placing the glass back down. He uses the sleeve of his jacket, to wipe the stray water that had escape his lips, and dribbled down his chin.

“What happened Rob? I’ve never seen you like that before” she shutters beside him; he can feel it, feel it in his core. It makes his stomach churn, the sort of feeling, where he wants to throw up, but knows he won’t be able to.

“I don’t know.”

It’s true; Victoria’s never seen him loose control. His made sure of it, never wanted to worry or scare her. But Aaron has, can feel his stare burning holes in the side of his head. His mind flashes back to The Lodge, to the _event_ neither of them talk about—the gun in his shaking hands, the _pop_ it still rings in his ears. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone—or maybe he had. In that moment, when he’d thought Aaron was telling the truth when he’d said he didn’t love him.

It had hurt, hurt like a blade ripping through his innards, tearing him apart. In that moment he’d wanted to hurt, to _hurt Aaron._

“Vic, why don’t you go home yeah? It’s late, I’ve got him” Aaron suggests, gently.

She sighs, but nods; patting the space between his shoulder blades “if you need anything” she starts but stops. She doesn’t know what he needs, and neither does Robert, _that’s the problem_ he thinks.

When she’s gone, Aaron clicks the door closed and takes her place. The spot must still be warm, Robert does that sometimes when Aaron’s gone to bed, curls up into the spot where he’d just occupied, it’ll smell like him, warm, and comforting. It's something private he does, he doesn’t think Aaron knows about it—it’s like a secret just for him.

_Robert?_

“Robert?” Aaron repeats softly.

“I…” Robert places his hand on Aaron’s knee, digs his fingers into the fabric of his joggers “I don’t want to talk about it. _Please._ ”

“Okay, for now,” it’s a promise, to talk when Robert feels up to it, but he doesn’t know how to tell Aaron he doesn’t think that day will ever come. That he’ll never be able to explain _the itch_ to anyone when he can’t explain it to himself. He doesn’t want to try, doesn’t want to admit what he already knows. That there’s something wrong, he _knows._ He knows.

 

 

 

 

 

Robert dreams; _dreams_ of yellow nursery walls, and infant’s faces. Dreams of holding his daughter in his arms, because that had been the only time he’d been able to. The night Daisy had been born, Rebecca had placed the small baby swaddled in blankets into his arms. It had felt _so right._ He’d silently promised to protect her, to love her—but she wasn’t his, she was _Ross’s._ So he dreams, dreams that things had turned out differently, dreams that the girl named after flowers was his, dreams she made him whole.  

 

 

 

 

 

He can’t sleep, tries to shake off the events from the week before, but people talk, they whisper, and it’s done nothing for _the itch._ If anything, it’s made it more confident, _it was right._ They are talking about him, even heard the word _unbalanced_ hushed out, when they'd thought he out of earshot. He hears more than they think he hears, hears _everything._

So he paces, up and down the wooden floorboards. Up and down, up and down, over and over again until his feet are sore. He only stops when Aaron turns on the light, it’s jarring, instantly, he squeezes his eyes shut until they adjust to the light.

“Come to bed Rob.”

Aaron’s standing on the staircase, hair rumpled, in his boxers and a nightshirt. He’s rubbing his eyes, with the bases of his palms, promising warmth and shelter from the savageness of his own mind.

“Soon, I promise.”

Soon, once the house is safe, and the shadows have retreated because the sunlight has chased them away.

Aaron press’s his lips together in disproval, shakes his head, he looks as though he wants to do something, say something, but he doesn’t. He retreats up the stairs, leaving the lights on, as he goes.

He’ll sleep when it’s morning. He’ll crawl back under the sheets, still warm, Aaron breathing soundly beside him and let go. It’ll be better in the morning; he just has to make it through.

 

 

 

 

She’s pushing the stroller passed the road at the top of The Mill when he walks out of the door, late for a meeting. His got a stack of paperwork shoved underneath his arm, and a half filled thermos with coffee in his hand. He stops when he sees her, he can’t make out a lot, just can see Daisy’s soft dark curls and her white shoes as she kicks her legs in the stroller.

When he’d started down at her, that first time—the only time. He’d thought she’d have blonde hair, of course, she would. Both Rebecca and him do, he’d thought she’d have bouncing blonde curls, but she doesn’t. She's more like Ross, and a whole less like Rebecca; perhaps that’s why it hurt so much.

“Why don’t I come with you?”

Robert spins on his heels, eyes tearing away from Rebecca to face Aaron. He’s dressed, nursing a cup of tea in his hands. “We could go have lunch after, I need to pop into the shops anyway, Liv’s been nagging for some new stationary from that shop in Hotten.”

Aaron waits patiently for his answer, but Robert looks back at the road. Can see Rebecca’s back disappearing from view, and the _itch._ It burns, and Robert knows he won’t be company doesn’t want to drag Aaron down—never wants to drag Aaron down. He just wants to get this done, come home, get into bed, and have this day be over.

“No your alright, I think I’ll just have an early night,” Robert says, quietly.

When she’d gone, Robert can feel his feet again. Knows he can find the strength to walk the short distance towards his car, that he can do _this._

 

But he can’t, he can’t do this.

Really, Robert knows this was going to happen. It's like a rubber band, one second his fine, the next his making a hard left into the intersection on the highway. It had felt like someone was following him, a shadow behind his shoulder, but when he’d turned off his engine, the road was dead. Not a car in sight for miles.

He reaches for his phone in the passenger’s seat, but his hand stills. Aaron can’t take this, he just can’t. Robert knows if his honest if he trusts him with this, it’ll all before over. He’ll loose him, and Robert can’t risk it, _he can’t._

It’s like a tug of war, up there, in his mind. A part of him wants to keep Aaron in the dark to protect him. But then there’s the itch, it’s telling him Aaron can’t be trusted, he’ll leave, abounded him, and that he needs to shield himself, not protect Aaron—protect him. But he doesn’t, doesn’t need to shield himself from Aaron anymore, and knows Aaron would never hurt him, but _he will._ He’ll hurt, and tear, and Robert just can’t.

He pulls his hand to his chest, like the phones too hot and it’s burnt him.

 

 

 

 

He tries to cope. He waits, does everything he can to calm himself, does all the things he usually does, but it only gets worse. It doesn’t stop—it never stops.

He doesn’t know what possesses him then, what makes him start his engine, and drive, drive to the place he sees his head, it’s a point of _origin._ When he thinks about all the bad things his done, when he pinpoints moments that define who he is now.

She’s on that list; she’s always on that list.

So he drives until he sees it, sees what he's looking for; _Wiley’s._ It’s empty, has been since Ross and Finn’s little drug escapade that had ended up with Harriet getting stabbed. It’s boarded up now, no ones what happened behind that door; only three of them, and one of that three is dead.

He shoves his shoulder into the door until it gives way. He walks inside, using the torch from his phone to guide the way. Stands at the point of contact, where her body had made slammed against the floor, where her neck had snapped.

The weight of it makes him fall to his knees and his done. He just needs this all to be done.

 

 

 

 

 

_Robert…Rob, can you hear me?_

_Don’t! Don’t touch me. Leave me alone._

_Babe, its me, Aaron. Let’s just get you off the floor._

He shuffles away until his back’s pressed up against the wall. Dust rattles from the celling falling. Like snow, onto them both. 

_Your bleeding, please, let me take to the A &E. I promise everything will be fine once we get you out of this place._

He laughs, bitterly, and it makes his mouth taste wrong. It’s bile, sitting in his throat—he just feels wrong, _so wrong._

 _It’s not this place, Aaron, it’s me! I’m broken. I don’t want you near me—but I do! But there’s this voice, right up here._ Robert’s jabs his index finger at the side of his head, over and over, knowing soon an ugly bruise will form on his temple. _It’s telling me your goanna hurt me. That I need to protect myself—that I can’t trust you, can’t trust anyone. All their eyes, they won't stop staring at me. I just need to crawl into a hole, lock the doors and maybe then I can finally feel safe._

_Rob._

Aaron’s close now, hovering but not touching; he _understands_ knows Robert doesn’t want his touch, doesn’t want his comfort. He's still shaking, the front of his shirt wet, a mixture of tears and snot. He wants to makes this stop, but he doesn’t know how.

_Your bleeding, I need to take to the hospital. Please, you don’t have to say anything, just get in the car and let me take you there. I promise Rob, we’ll sort this._

_You were pulling away, **you.**_

_No, no I haven't, I've been here waiting. I should have done something sooner, I should never have let you get this bad. I’m sorry Rob, I should have realised._

_You found me._

_I’ll always find you. No matter, what, I’ll find you._

 

 

 

 

 

The haziness doesn’t clear this time, not during the car ride to the hospital. Aaron talks, he can hear him, but doesn’t reply; just starts out, the window, watching the empty streets roll by. Aaron talks, and talks, but he’s not sure if it’s for his benefit, or Aaron’s. It doesn’t clear when they reach the A&E either, or when the doctor gives him the once over.

Watch’s them work around him, watch’s the doctor stitch his hand up, because apparently Robert’s split it open, can’t remember, but he must have because there’s four stitches lining the palm of his hand.

“Robert,” Aaron says, slowly. His gentle, when he puts a hand tentatively to Roberts' shoulder “they’re going keep you over night okay?”

He wants to ask why, but he _knows._ After the doctor had stitched his hand up and was replaced by a nurse with kind eyes, and a soft smile. Robert had seen Aaron pull him to one side; they’d talk for a fair amount of time before Aaron had come back into the room. Long enough, for the nurse to finish, and pour Robert a cup of water, which she’d made sure he drank the full contents of.

“They think I’ve lost it, don’t they?” he says, voice spent. He feels drowsy, but he's aware enough, the haziness has started to clear—the longest yet.

Aaron shakes his head, crouches down so his eye level with Robert. “Of course not, but you're not well, and they need to make sure you're alright before they can release you.”

He nods, accepts it, knows putting up a fight would do little good. He knows his mind. Has been dealing with this long enough to know that eventually, he’ll feel okay again, he just needs to wait it out.

“But we’re in this together yeah? You’re not alone.”

He swallows hard, meets Aaron’s hopefully eyes, and feels his own start to water. He can’t help it, his crashing; every emotion is hitting him at once, like a truck slamming right into him. It almost _hurts;_ hurts, to feel this much, this intensely.

He wants to agree, to ease Aaron’s worries but he can’t. Can’t find it in himself to open his mouth and agree. He wants to, but he feels like an island. Aaron’s right there, so what’s wrong with him? Why does he feel like his drifting further and further away from the shore, and Aaron’s standing there on the shoreline, watching helplessly as he disappears into fog.

In the end, he says nothing, just stares down at the bandage and waits for the silence to pass.

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t sleep much that night, Robert’s always like the quiet  and the constant sound of footsteps against the white title won't let him turn off. He dozes off here and there, when his body can’t handle it anymore, and just needs a few minutes of sleep but others he’s awake and left to his own thoughts.

He’d convinced Aaron to leave, a little passed midnight. Liv needed him, and Robert knows from experience how those hospital chairs do nothing for people’s backs. Of course, he'd refused at first, it’s Aaron, Robert hadn’t expected anything else. But he calms him, Robert’s in the best place right? Soothes his worries, even if Robert doesn’t actually agree, even though he wants to rip his IV out, and just _run._

He lies, he lies so well. He wont, hold it against Aaron that he believes him, believes Robert’s lies because his good at it. Knows what to say, how to smile, how to twist and bend a situation to his own will. He pulls it out of himself, just long enough to make Aaron go home, and get a decent night’s sleep in their bed, before dropping the façade, and then his alone.

There’s a knock on the door, which is pointless considering it’s open but Robert guesses it’s to give the patients an inch of privacy. A woman’s standing there, clip pressed to her chest.

“Good you’re awake, I’m Sophie. I’m a consultant with the hospital. I was wondering if we could have a chat?” She asks, walking into the room.

Robert bites his lip, looks out the small window to the right of him. Morning’s just breaking, his been awake _all night._ No wonder, even his bones feel tired. He feels heavy, like his tied down to the bed, even though his not. 

“Sure” he shrugs, faking indifference. It wasn’t like; she was going to tell him something he didn’t already know. But he wants to go home, and he knows they won't let him unless they’ve analysed his head. Good luck with that.

She smiles patiently and takes the seat beside the bed that was still pulled up from when Aaron had been sitting beside him last night.

“Your file says your husband brought you in, in a bit of state last night. Can you tell me about it?”

 _He can’t._ “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s okay, why don’t you just go through the events that led up to what happened. Like for explain, what did you have breakfast morning?”

“Nothing” he bites his lip “just coffee, Aaron’s always telling me how bad it is. but I’d had a—a rough night, and I’d woken up too late.”

“Aaron’s your husband right? How long have you two been married?” she asks.

“Two and half years, best thing I ever did.”

When he’d held Daisy in his arms, for a second—for a second he’d thought, perhaps marrying Aaron and giving her life, tied—just for a second, then she was gone. He doesn't understand, how can he miss something that he never truly had. That never was his.

“That’s sweet, it’s nice to see a couple still so in love. You know, nowadays most people can’t hack 6 months being married without getting divorced.”

“Not me and Aaron,” he says, shakes his head, _proud._ “We’ve been through the wars, I’ve put him through the wars, and we’re still standing.”

She nods, writes something down on her clipboard before continuing, “So after you’d had your coffee, what did you do next?”

“I grabbed my files and headed for the door, and then I saw Rebecca—and Aaron came out asking me if I wanted to make a day of it, after my meeting. Go into town together but I said no…I wasn’t feeling well, I just wanted to come home and have an early night.”

“Had you been feeling unwell since you’d woken up?”

“No, it was when I’d saw Rebecca…and Daisy—for a second, well for more than a second for months I’d thought she was mine, Rebecca’s daughter. I’d cheated on Aaron when he was locked up—I thought we were over, it’s not an excuse, it’s not, I know that. But I was at rock-bottom, and well Rebecca had gotten pregnant and she thought it was mine.”

“But she wasn’t?” Sophie asks.

_No, she wasn’t._

“No, she was Ross’s, Rebecca’s boyfriend at the time. It was a good thing, it _was._ Aaron was struggling with it, almost relapsed because of it, because of me. It was for the best.”

“But you were upset, that she wasn’t yours?”

“No—I mean I don’t know…but I thought she was, I held her, and I thought I was her dad, but I wasn’t and it is, what it is.”

The rooms silent for a moment, all Robert can hear are his own sniffles. He didn’t have a right to be upset, not after what he’d done, but he was. He’d _wanted_ her. She was a part of him, and he'd wanted her—but she wasn’t really, it had all been a lie, and nothing had been the same since.

“So when you saw her and her mother, you started to feel unwell?” Sophie asks, encouraging Robert to push on.

“Yeah, but I was fine. At least I thought I was anyway. I went into town and got through my meetings. I was driving home when…when I thought someone was following me, I thought there was a car behind me, but when I pulled over into the lay-by there wasn’t anybody there.”

“Does that happen a lot? Do you often think there’s someone following you? Maybe when you’re walking alone? When you’re in your house?”

“Yes…but there wasn’t. I, I usually can calm myself down but nothing was working, and then my mind just grabbed onto any idea and I couldn’t stop myself. I drove to where my sister in law had died, she fell through the floorboards and snapped her neck—she was more than my sister though. It feels like another life now, but once we were together, it’s complicated. But being there, I don’t know, I wanted it to be over.”

“Why didn’t you ring Aaron?”

“Because I didn’t think I could trust him in that moment.”

Robert feels raw, telling another person he hadn’t trust Aaron—it felt like his throat was on fire, like his drank boiling hurt water, it _burns_.

“I think we’re done for now,” Sophie says softly, standing up from the chair. “Why don’t you try and get some rest? We’ll have another chat later on in the day.”

 

 

 

 

Robert does manage to sleep, with the aid of a sensitive. It had been Sophie’s idea when he’d admitted he didn’t think he was going to be able to get any rest. When he wakes, feeling groggy and disorientated. He can make out Aaron’s figure sitting by the door, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” he says, softly. He sits up, wincing from his aching head.

“You’re awake” Aaron smiles happily, standing up and heading over to the bed. He sits down at the edge, hand falling to Robert’s leg. “How are you feeling? The doctor said you'd spoken to someone."  

“Fine, I guess. Did they tell you if I could go home?”

Aaron sighs “Robert—”

“Enough, I’ve played their games, and now I just want to go home.” This was useless, how was talking about his feelings going to solve anything? Talking about Daisy had just made him feel worse, he doesn’t talk about it. He wants to _cope_ and he usually does, he knows he can, this was just a blimp, a one off.

“This isn’t a _game_ Robert. The things you told me last night at the farm. You know it’s not normal to feel that way? You know it’s not.”

“Oh what, you’re the _expert?_ 6 months of therapy doesn’t make you a shrink Aaron. You have no clue, _no clue._ ”

“So tell me” Aaron pleads “I just want to understand, I can’t help if you won't let me in. Robert, we’re married, you can lean on me, I promise I won't let you fall.”

“Go home, Aaron.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere until you speak to me.”

“If I can’t leave, I don’t want you here, _do one._ ”

Aaron stands up then, a look of hurt and betrayed laid on his face, and Robert wants to apologise, to beg for forgiveness, but he _can’t._ All he seems to know are all the things he can’t do, it’s like the itch has won, and maybe it finally has.

“I’ll go have a coffee in the canteen, shall I? But I’m not leaving Robert, I won't, so stop asking, cause it’s going to get old fast.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I ran into Aaron, on my way to check up on you, he seemed upset.”

“I told him to do one didn’t I?”

“Why?” Sophie asks, but the real question is why is she here _again._ Robert doesn’t want to talk anymore; he’d made that perfectly clear to Aaron, yet here she was, stupid clipboard in her lap. _Asking._

“Why? Because he wouldn’t understand and I don’t want to explain, I just want to go home. I just need to go home, it passes, it always _passes._ ”

“This is something you’ve dealing for a long time isn’t? Perhaps because you have, you think, you can just get by. Hope the good days out the weight the bad, and just force yourself to believe your okay? But Robert, just _getting by_ isn’t a healthy way to live.”

“It’s worked until now.”

“Maybe, but happens when it stops working? When it’s more than just stitches, what happens if you do something irreversible?”

“I’d never hurt myself if that’s what your thinking—how could I, after Aaron, I _couldn’t._ ”

“Sometimes we hurt ourselves, without even being aware of it. Aaron said when he found you, you were inconsolable, and that it was like you weren’t even there. I know it’s hard to admit that you need help, but you know what’s harder? Living a lie, pretending everything is okay; because it will you break Robert. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, it might be a year from now. But it will happen, and more often than not, it’s ugly, you’ll leave chaos in your wake, and maybe it will be too late then.”

“What if it's something bad, like really _bad_.”

“You’ll get through it. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you, and say it’s easy because it never is. It’s hard, and there aren’t any instant fix’s, but if you want to try. We can get you through to the other side, _together._ ”

“I don’t know.”

Sophie sighs, “the hospital can’t preform, a psychiatric evaluation without your consent, ultimately the decision is yours.”

“I thought that’s what you were doing this morning?” he asks, confused.

“This morning we were just having a chat, to gauge your mental state. A psychiatric evaluation goes into a lot more depth. We can’t make an official diagnosis without one.”

“And if I refuse?”

“The hospital can’t keep you here unless we feel you’re a danger to yourself or others. Which at this point in time we don’t. But Robert, this isn’t going to go away, it’ll keep happening until you deal with it. ”

 

 

 

 

Robert chooses to leave, of course, he does. It’s predictable really, his predictable. Aaron drives them home, and he knows his husband is anything but happy. He knows, Aaron would have preferred for the hospital to have forced him to do the evaluation. But he’d heard Sophie from the bathroom _he needs to want this Aaron; we can’t force him to get help. He needs to want to._

The itch has lulled since he’s arrived at the hospital, but Robert knows it’ll return. He just _can’t,_ can’t again. Can’t give himself over, and let them prod and poke, write down a word on a piece of paper, a word that’ll define. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want that word, etched into his skin for eternity.

When he gets out of the car, Vic tackles him, holding on tight. “Oh Rob, I was going to come to the hospital, but then Aaron said they were letting you go home and I thought I’d just give some space.” She says too fast, voice panicked.

“I’m alright Vic.”

“But you’re not are you?” She pulls back, and she _knows._ He can see it, it’s written all over her face, Aaron must have told her.

“Really Vic,” he says, tightly. Aaron didn’t have a right, didn’t have the _right_ to scare his sister, what was he thinking? The last thing Vic needed was to be worrying about him not being able to cope “I’m _okay._ ”

“Look, I've left a lasagne in the fridge for the three of you, the last thing you lot should be worrying about is food. I’m driving down to see Daz today, but I’ll be back before it’s too _late,_ so if you need anything, just call.”

He nods and almost smiles. A ghost, _almost._ He likes, the thought of Daz and Victoria, they’re still new, _not anything_ yet—but maybe. After Daz had shown up looking for Andy, Victoria and him had rekindled the flames, and things were slow but steady and Robert loves that smile that Victoria has when she’s come back from seeing him. After Adam and _Daisy_ because Robert knows Victoria had her demons, about that. It’s the first time he's seen her happy, in a long time. He hopes it stays that way.

“I promise, tell Daz I said hi.”

“We’re, _just_ friends _Robert._ ”    

“ _Sure,_ Victoria.”

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, about what I said at the hospital. You didn’t deserve that, I shouldn't have gotten angry at you.”

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I know more than anyone, how bottling things up, can end badly.”

“Still. I am sorry.”

“I know you are. I just wish you’d let us help you. You scared me, Robert, I thought I’d lost you. The way you pulled back, wouldn’t let me touch you, it’s like you were gone. And I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

Tears, make tracks down Aaron’s cheeks, and Robert’s core aches. _He’s doing it_ again. When will he ever stop? When is he going to be good enough?

Robert reaches out, pulls Aaron into his arms and holds him. Closes his eyes and feels Aaron’s warm body pressed into his chest. Holding Aaron has always felt right, like his arms were made, just to hold his husband in them.

“You won't loose me, I won't let that happen,” He promises.

“What happens if you can’t control? What happens then?”

 

 

 

 

Robert's the one that had picked out the name Daisy. _Most people_ around the village, don't know that. But it was him. Three weeks before her due date, Robert had driven Rebecca to the final scan. It was simple, just an opinion at the end of the day. The doctor had asked them if they’d thought of names, and it had just _split_ out.

_I always liked the name Daisy for a girl, mum’s favourite flowers._

Maybe it was to make it up to him, Robert doesn’t know—just knows the doubt had already crept into Rebecca’s mind by this point. She’d already worked out the dates over and over in her head, and had the devastating doubt, that perhaps it wasn’t Robert’s _after all._

But she’d named her Daisy anyway; maybe she just liked the name. Maybe she wanted it to be Roberts, and naming her that, could somehow change her DNA.

He doesn’t know, just knows it was _him_. He thinks about it a lot. Can’t stop actually.

 

 

 

 

 

After Robert comes home, things go back to relatively normal. At first Aaron’s paranoid, hyper-vigilant, but when weeks pass and nothing happens, even he starts to fall back, into the way things were.

Robert copes, copes like he always does and everyone around him starts to think he was right it was a _blimp._ It won’t happen again.

It does though because Sophie was right, he’d dealt with the itch long enough to know it wasn’t going to go away. But he’d thought perhaps he could contain it, and he tried, tried harder than he had before—was more careful, but still it _itched,_ and the harder Robert tried, the more it burned until he’d found locked in their bedroom, he just can't _leave_ —can't leave the safety of the bedroom walls.

_Robert, it’s Aaron. Open the door yeah?_

It’s her birthday, of course, it is. The day he spent the other 364 days trying not the think about, most of the time failing miserably. He’d only got 14 birthdays with her, he was meant to get _more._ He was meant to get a life of birthdays, but she’d gone and died—it wasn't her _fault,_ Robert knows, but his angry, get’s angry at her for leaving him, even though he knows she wouldn’t, if she had a choice, knows she’d have stayed with Robert if she could.

Victoria and him had gone to the graveyard and laid daisies by her graveside. He’d shook when he’d bought them, they mean something else now—he doesn’t know how to handle that. After the graveyard, they’d gone back to Vic’s for a drink, usually just being together, was enough, he’d go home then, and let Aaron comfort him and just wait for the day to be over, and it would be okay. But he couldn’t, he was sat there opposite Victoria, who looks so much like _her_ and it burned.

—There was someone outside the window, Robert knew there was. He’d stood up, ripped the door open, and stormed out, but there wasn’t anyone there. _There never is anyone there._ It’s all in his head, the head that refuses to work.

His hand had shaken, and suddenly Victoria was too close. _Don’t touch me._ He needs to feel safe, so he’d run, to The Mill, to _his home,_ his and Aaron’s home. Ran up the stairs, and locked the door, heart banging against his ribcage, refusing to let up.

_Robert, please, let me in._

_Go away, I’m fine._

_We both know that’s not true, babe._

_I just need her, and she’s not here._

_I know Rob, I know. Please let us help._

 

 

 

 

 

They tell him, he has something called _paranoid personality disorder_ —at least it has name doesn’t make him feel any better, but at least he _knows._ They tell him, his probably suffered from it for years, but with the nature of the condition most individuals who suffer from it, don’t seek out treatment until they’re at the end of they’re rope; _just like him._

They tell him psychotherapy is the best course of treatment, it’s the standard treatment, but Robert’s never been standard, not once in his life, and this itch it isn’t standard either. They explain, that anxiety and hallucinations were brought on from ignoring it for so long, from trying to _cope._  So they prescribe _meds_ , Diazepam to be exact. He doesn’t want to take them at first, he’d read the warning label, knows that these sorts of medications make you tried (among other things), make you nothing more than a ball of medicine, can often even worsen conditions like his if they’re not careful.

But— _you can’t keep living like this Rob._ That’s what Aaron had said to him, that night after he’d unlocked the door. Liv had stood in the doorway, looking pale as a ghost and more worried about him then Robert had ever seen her. He’d wanted to make a joke, something like _“it takes me having a breakdown for you finally care about me eh?”_ but he doesn’t because, Aaron’s right.

This isn’t just about him, _not anymore._ And he can’t live like this anymore; they can’t live like this anymore.

So he takes them, goes to therapy every week, tries and tries and the itch doesn’t go away—not yet anyway. It’ll take time, they’ve all told him, it’ll take time, but his trying, he really is. He wants to be better, to feel better, to feel _okay_ again.

He wants that more than anything. _Anything._

 

 

 

 

 

Robert can’t sleep, again. It happens every so often, and he knows even with therapy and his medication it going to happen. Knows now, that he needs to accept it, and not put too much pressure on himself. Knows the itch, will slowly fade (maybe)—but that it will take time, he _knows_ that now.

Aaron’s sat beside; he doesn’t leave Robert alone anymore when he's like this, even when Robert asks him too. _No, if you’re awake, I’m awake._ So they’re sat on the couch, curled up underneath the blanket, the TV, white noise in the background.

And Robert thinks he might be okay, _he just might be._

And yeah, it’s feels good--he feels _good_ (even if only for a brief moment).

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on tumblr @victoriasugden


End file.
